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"explicable" poems
the slime of all my yesterdays rots in the hollow of my skull and if my stomach would contract because of some explicable phenomenon such as pregnancy or constipation I would not remember you or that because of sleep infrequent as a moon of greencheese that because of food nourishing as violet leaves that because of these and in a few fatal yards of grass in a few spaces of sky and treetops a future was lost yesterday as easily and irretrievably as a tennis ball at twilight
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8.4k
April 18
When brothers go to war there are no captives/ When brothers go to war we find only casualties/ The in explicable war between Palestine and Israel,/ In this poem i hope that peace would prevail/ Countries at the crossroads of heaven and hell/ Their war has lasted for ages/ Pain and revenge bitterness and hate/ When brothers go to war who dares to mediate/ Who knows of their fate who knows whose right/ Its bee like this for so many years/ Who will be there to wipe their tears/ Who will be there to give hope to those in fear/ Who will dare to go and interfere/ When brothers go to war know that the end is near/ Hold on and sanctify your soul in prayer/ When brothers go to war who is the villain who is the saint/ The war of Israel and Palestine stained in red paint/ A revelation to the faint hearted/ A lesson to the boastful and egocentric/ Innocent lives lost when brothers go to war/ A gentle answer turns away wrath/ But a harsh word stirs up anger/ A hot tempered man stirs up dissension/ But a patient man calms a quarrel/ When brothers go to war who dares mediate (c) ISSAI
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Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
WHEN BROTHERS GO TO WAR
Can I explain this to you? Your eyes are entrances the mouths of caves I issue from wonderful interiors upon a blessed sea and a fine day, from inside these caves I look and dream. Your hair explicable as a waterfall in some black liquid cooled by legend fell across my thought in a moment became a garment I am naked without lines drawn across through morning and evening. And in your body each minute I died moving your thigh could disinter me from a grave in a distant city: your ******* deserted by cloth, clothed in twilight filled me with tears, sweet cups of flesh. Yes, to touch two fingers made us worlds stars, waters, promontories, chaos swooning in elements without form or time come down through long seas among sea marvels embracing like survivors in our islands. This I think happened to us together though now no shadow of it flickers in your hands your eyes look down on ordinary streets If I talk to you I might be a bird with a message, a dead man, a photograph.
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5.4k
The Knife
Wish life was at least as explicable as The HMM, But alas! It's even more complex. You may understand The HMM one day, But not your life and interactions. In probability & statistics, A Markov chain or Markoff chain or a Markov Process, Named after the Russian mathematician Andrey Markov, Is a stochastic process that satisfies the Markov property And is usually characterized as "memorylessness". Imagine an urn experiment with replacement, Hidden Markov Model can be visualized likewise. ***Consider a hidden room with a genie inside, The room has N urns with n ***** in each.*** *The genie chooses an urn in that room, He randomly draws a ball from the urn. He then puts the ball onto a conveyor belt, Which is being observed for the sequence, Only the ***** on the conveyor are visible, Not the urns from which they were drawn. The genie has a procedure to choose urns, The choice of the urn for the n-th ball, It depends only upon a random number, And the choice of the urn for the (n − 1)-th ball. The choice of urn does not directly depend on The urns chosen before this single previous urn; Therefore, this is called a Markov process.* ***Hidden Markov models model complex Markov processes, Where the states emit the observations according to a distribution. One such example is a Gaussian distribution, In such a Hidden Markov Model, The state's output are represented by a Gaussian distribution.***
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Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 6:02 AM UTC
Markov Process & The Hidden Markov Model
the other me the other you so natural || parallel grazing... like soft kisses under cool sheets never have touched, yet can tickle so much, again, again, experience the other explicable and envigorating, so much that the ___ just can't be contained/pressed/expressed truly in simple written words. goosebumps, held breath, who would have thought simple presence could see & show & feel so much so nervous, so anxious, so amazed, so curious, yum - it builds - this tension such T.O... even if this other us will never meet on this side of the reflection, it's okay. there's no off-switch it seems... and i love all that it is and i love All that it is. the things to do to say to feel, so unreal and so-su-re-al if there is such thing as an un-provable-un-disprovable bond/natural affinities/of us; no motive, no agenda, yet muted from any role other than to Be...  impossibly, but possibly the other you the other me 3:02 AM 9/23/2011 10/06/2012
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Sep 23, 2011
Sep 23, 2011 at 6:07 AM UTC
the other me the other you
Crinkled and knotted, Your mind pushes far beyond the last Fluid dimension of thought. Words and images ****** out, crossed out, and beaten. Their meaning disentangled From the syllables they’re bound to. Stretched, Pulled, Prodded, Poked, Rolled, And torn open. Mile by mile, down a endless road, Making no explicable progress. Broken and battered, Words, attempting equilibrium, Burn off energy enough to care. The unthinkable dread of empty canvas Impedes on the black and white tile That clangs too loudly For reason to be heard. Inspiration becomes an Agonizing, ever-twisting labyrinth. The climactic moment drawn out too far, Centuries too far, Tortures and torments you, Tears you to pieces Until, at last, you Are indistinguishable from The pain you’ve offered, The discomfort you’ve endured, The itch you’ve tolerated. And the balance finally restores itself. Rights you just at the point of ultimate collision, Lets you steal a breath, Before the next thought starts to pull.
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Jan 29, 2010
Jan 29, 2010 at 12:57 PM UTC
Ars Poetica
As the evergreen's last leaf falls off, memories come in flashes, and I really hate it when the memory of you comes back. My mind turns to the scene where you saw her with an explicable way; like she's your one. I was your shining star, but now she's your sunshine. I know that night might one day pass, yet I never knew the sun would rise this soon. Our heart didn't beat as one anymore as you found another heart that beats more beautiful than mine. You used to love me like I was the only girl in this universe, You used to treat me like I was a princess and you were the prince. Yet I was never your princess, wasn't I? I was only daydreaming about us, a future us. And it's such a pain to wake up in a reality that we are now strangers. I often told you that, I love you with all my life and I want us together till death do us apart. And you told me so "You know how much I love your, right?", you asked I was too innocent, thinking that you really love me. I loved you too much, and by that you start treating me like I could never leave you, like I was an option, like I was a **** and because of that, I began to doubt. You know what? I just found out that love has the expiration date, and remembering about how long has it been since you said that thing, it now makes sense I prayed for your happiness, and if happy means you and her I'm happy for you.
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Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 6:07 AM UTC
Evergreen Last Leaf
Today I saw a flower, A rose, I did not look at the rose, I saw the rose. A yellow rose just opened, The petals straight in a spiral, Slightly flared at the tips. “Beautiful” is subjective, Who am I to label the rose? Seeing the rose, The intricacy of creation, An explicable force, That formed the rose, That formed me. I was filled with wonder. Awe, A sense of belonging All this I would have missed If I looked at the rose.
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Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 9:42 AM UTC
Seeing a Flower
A dream is a gushing rarity Throbbing in explicable clarity. It stretches the walls of imagination To seamless leaps of pulsate stagnation. It blows in a raging flight Racing blindly upon each bend. A prism to a faulty sight To see  the beginning  from end. It cuffs the voice of reason And frees the mind from prison To hover and graciously be blown Forth vast wonderlands unknown. It tricks the heart to please And be happy in vanity. That the sorrows  cease And we awe in queer insanity.
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Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
A Dream
Some say He’s invisible Though we all know He’s invincible His breath alone parted the sea Well, He’s Jehovah nissi Three in one, one in three You’ve got Him, you’re free His thought alone makes me the opposite of sad Thinking too deep of Him could even run one mad He’s as big as, the earth is barely His foot stool Still could be as small as, speaking through you Unspeakable is His power He sees a thousand years as an hour He brings out mighty trees from little seeds From human to ants, He feeds How big could His brain be? That He knows the numbers of our hair How deep could He see? That He reads our thoughts so bare and clear His being is the meaning of holiness His breath is called faithfulness Holy, holy, angels keep calling In His presence, all knees helplessly falling Through His fear, Wisdom is born Therefore to all glory should return His mercy brings me into better days His love is spoken to me in different ways His ways makes me speechless His works, clean, explicable, and faultless On both good and evil He shines His sun Still for both, He sent His son Mountains and oceans flee at His anger Yet He never forgets His position as the Father He delights in making good things better Since He’s Jehovah ralpha Two things I can’t comprehend is He was, He is, and still yet to come Yet He unconditionally loves someone like me He sure defines ALMIGHTY. - David Omodunmiju
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Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 6:02 AM UTC
THE ALMIGHTY
With rough hands, she was the only thing that made them soft. New experiences protected by their roughness. The orbit of her body their center. They kept her safe. She admired their scars. Their courage to love as they did. To properly deflect the asteroids that threatened her orbit. To hold a fire such as she. Their standards high, lifting her high above. An explicable star shooting across the sky. With hands like a fortress. They cherished every sunrise of her smile. For all that she is. She is blissfully unaware
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Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 5:45 AM UTC
Orbit
You have yet to fabulously flutter My pupae of frozen adores Stricken are you to utter How from larvae to insect, one matures Pain of stages you must endure For as you were once caterpillar Such simplicity of infancy Mother butterfly placed near daffodil a Miraculous plan of decency Life arranged in such complexities Little do you know, surprising? Welcoming event so explicable How wondrous wings of this uprising Nature joyful and formidable Your glory so perfectly permissible Truly a divine intervention From chrysalis a manifesting These plans have set emotion How Mother Nature has been testing Longevity of ****** investing She flutters on and you have come Launching momentous occasion Your time is near, you have become An allure of life’s suasion Flutter on, flutter on, all love’s persuasion
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Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC
Love, Larvae, And Other Squishy Things
I don't like honors It just doesn't appeal to me That such a surreal feeling of recognition Is attributed to such intense hard work and innovation I don't like honors It puts on the pedestal of human achievement Whereas, my work is meant for the few, who arrive at it I don't like honors It doesn't do me good to biased towards my own Qualifications That's why I love contributing Because it gives me peace in this pensive mind searching for the end Of the vast tunnel of possibilities, where questions are answered And answered questions are an explicable form of logic Contributing is a logician's ebullient dream Because this hand is meant for forgiving and not taking I guess that's why we have the sun set on a place too far I guess that's why we have a fascination for the beautiful Because it helps us understand ourselves better And feel connected with our own art and creation I don't like honors It makes me feel like a destroyer of doubt Rather than the creator of fascination and amazement We have sullied the atomic bomb Time for us to bring up our arms in rebarbative rebellion
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Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 1:11 PM UTC
Oppenheimer's Inner Rebellion
“ When it comes to theology, philosophy and the mystery of human relationships, not knowing is a value I cherish. But now, with so many lives at stake, I’m finding it excruciating. Jay Michaelson February 23, 2024 <> Certainty, h a s certainly transmogrified into delusion. the irony is neither lost nor found, but it is profound. when  the delusional, are certitudinal, what is criminal is logical explicable, because it's explainable. I know you know what I know, and I am certifiably certain you will agree. only the delusional now believe certitude is decipherable & deliverable, ain’t that just crazy
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Aug 19, 2024
Aug 19, 2024 at 3:58 PM UTC
Certainty is a delusion
somehow we all like, enjoy saying   that word thrice, somehow nice, when you follow the rhythm of the tonguing of it: time, time and add~pray-it one more time again seems eminently successfully sensible in a trinity unity so stop here and now and give me a love love love permission granted to say it as needed on this day without embarrassment and when they inquire what? just smile and say it one mirror one more time inexplicably explicable
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Dec 25, 2024
Dec 25, 2024 at 10:13 AM UTC
love love love